Friday, August 29, 2008

Enough Napping

No posting yesterday owing to yet another nap attack. I was online for about 40 minutes after a day's daffodil bulb sorting, and had this strange compelling sensation to shut down the PC, and go and read a book, the Hidden Messages in Water. Not having any self volition to resist, I followed this "instruction" and did. Then again, another compelling notion to take a nap while I was on the bed reading. I was not sleepy and had some doubts that I was even going to nap, and lo, two hours later, I awoke. So, at nearly 2200h, I went to the nearby supermarket to get more goat milk as the perps had soured it (IMHO) three days ahead of the "best before" date. There was plenty of gangstalker action outside, but no major annoyances. I did get the cardboard box act on the sidewalk; a woman with a stack of nested cardboard boxes "happened" to be coming toward me when I was headed to the supermarket. And there was at least one stocking/stalking cart loaded with cardboard boxes in the store on my route inside. It would seem that cardboard boxes are becoming a portable brown color reference as they are are "showing up" in many more strange locations and juxtapositions of late. The perps will even lay black plastic objects on them for a localized plastic/brown color reading at the above mentioned conveyor belt.

The above ramble was to say that I really didn't have sufficient time to write a blog yesterday, and if am beginning to wonder if it was a way to fake out some of my readership, having them look for a new posting and there wasn't one. Believe it or not, such trivial pursuits carry much interest to the perps. So, maybe I have a larger readership of one, as Google Analytics suggested.

Since then, I cannot now get access to the blog readership data, (Google Analytics) so I am back in the prior clueless state; writing in the hope that I have a regular reader or two. The reality is that it is better than being in the decieved state, getting erroneous statistics. In a TI's world, ignorance has more value than in the conventional world; deception is at every corner and crevice of one's thoughts, and often it is better not to know to save the mental thrashing as to whether something is real or not. As mentioned in past blog postings, the perps devote much attention to maintaining FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt), with the emphasis on the latter two in my case.

And with TIDBunker as the lastmost blog commenter, which precipitated shutting down the comments for a time, (still in effect), I don't have this alternate means of communication, the Blogger comments. I sent TIDBunker a long email tonight, and I have no idea how he is going to explain how serious I take his inquiry with an email name like that. Yet another front to deal with, hopefully for the last time.

I was assigned to pick weeds in the cabbage patch this morning; pulling them out by hand along the rows of cabbages, some 600' long, and weeds every foot. The job lasted for 2.5 hours, and the usual odd coursing of my "colleagues" about me was in progress. A brief description of associated oddities and a few others over the last few days;
  • the walk toward me and then walk back for no apparent reason stunt at least twice today, and at least once or more each day,
  • the encirclement stunt at least twice today,
  • the brown jacket wearing gangstalker walking past me making an inane observation about raingear, while a same brown colored vehicle was headed in the same direction, some 60' away,
  • constant row hopping by all others when we each were assigned to a cabbage row to pick weeds in,
  • the redshirted wacko placing his red shirt 10' from me in the wet cabbages and then encircling me to then pass by along a row of cabbages 4' away, presumably to test some kind of distance dependent residual effect/differential between his red shirt and his current state (a black shirt underneath), following on from the same fucker who sat beside me on the outbound crew bus,
  • the FUD stunt as to whether I was sorting or weeding, and have me exit the bus to find out, only to intend to get on the bus again and then an operative jumps in the bus ahead of me and bags my just vacated seat, replete with him sitting 12" from my sodden cotton gloves hanging from the rail at the seat back in front of him (funny he didn't enquire about whose gloves they were, as I guess he knew),
  • and when doing the morning employee check in that utilizes a red laser light scan of the barcode, having at least four red, orange or pink shirted operatives clustered around me,
  • having a pink jacket hanging from the 4' yellow steel/concrete post that protects the corner of the door opening for over 6 days now,
Anyhow, a 1000h re-assignment to the daffodil bulb sorting conveyor line saved the day from backbreaking agony in picking weeds. And for once, they didn't put anyone across the conveyor belt from me waving their hands in front of me and then selecting bulbs or objects that I was about to select. It seems to be a big deal of late, thwarting intention and having someone else (read, operative) snatch it instead. It is fucking bizarre that it so consistent.

The perps continue to put on the Scottish accented "worker", in my proximity though he keeps the chat to a minimum. Regular readers will know that the perps frequently expose me to Scottish accents and that these are a component of the Unfavored demographic groups. For once, I did not find the accent so grating, and I am wondering if the perps are changing my usual negative response to something neutral. More unconsenting neural modifications it would seem, and it has never bothered the perps to manipulate my recall, now or at the time negative associations formed. My aversion to Scottish accents may have been a result of meeting the infamous Dr. Ewen Cameron in Montreal when I was two to three years old, though no conscious recall of any visitations exist. Much of the Unfavored demographics freakshow appears to relate to elicitations of subconscious recall, something the perps could not fuck with until recently. It would seem that the current focus on having a larger amount of red and red variant colors around me is part of this campaign.

Time to call this one done for the day, as I must get to bed earlier now that the big push is on to pick daffodil bulbs off the conveyor line for the last day before a Labor Day shutdown.

No comments: